Tea with a Death-Eater
by Always A Dragon
Summary: "Moody" -cough, Barty, cough- and Neville sit down and chat after the Unforgivable lesson. Set in GoF.


**A/N: Just so it's clear: This is set in GoF, after the Unforgivable lesson. This is set in Bartemius Crouch Jnr.'s POV. Barty-as-Moody still refers to himself as Bartemius/Barty and refers to Moody-Moody as Moody. Hope that's clear! Enjoy and PLEASE REVEIW! :)**

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Bartemius clunked down the passageway, his magical eye swivelling in all directions. Potter and his friends stood next to the Longbottom boy, who was gabbling away in a high-pitched voice. Curse on Moody, Bartemius thought sullenly, with his helping, heroic ways. That silly Longbottom boy, snivelling all over the place. Still, Barty had to do what Moody would do, and if that meant comforting the stupid idiot, then so be it.

All four children turned around, looks of uneasiness on their faces as Barty walked down the corridor.

"It's all right, sonny," He said to Neville. The boy looked so much like his parents, with his round face and those eyes and that frightened look. Yes, they had been so terrified, screaming and wailing and-

"Why don't you come up to my office? Come one… We can have a cup of tea…"

The idiot didn't move. He looked like the rabbit Barty had once seen, his eyes glazed over in terror and _completely_ still. Bartemius turned, sweeping his eyes over Weasley, Granger and Potter. Potter… His master's enemy, the one whose name Barty would put in the Goblet of Fire in a month's time.

"You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," He said, in his insolent way. It must have been a shock, to see that spider snuffed out before his very eyes. Just like his pathetic parents. Barty paused, thinking how Moody might react to this.

"You've got to know." He said. "It seems harsh, maybe, _but you've got to know. _No point pretending… Well…"

Barty swivelled his eye to Longbottom. Wasn't he the one Sprout had said was good at Herbology? Useless subject, useless kid. Unless he could be _made_ useful- wait. Gillyweed was a plant. If Potter asked for help on the second task and Longbottom knew about Gillyweed… Barty had stayed up all night, flipping through endless books to find such a thing, but the information was useless, since he couldn't well tell Potter directly. The boy would get suspicious. If Barty could just deposit that book somewhere…

"Come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you." He placed a hand on the terrified kid's shoulder and steered him down more corridors, leaving Potter and his friends behind. They walked in silence -if the thud and clunk off the wooden leg wasn't counted- all the way to Moody's office. Barty's office. Alastor's office. Never mind.

Barty took out his large, metal key, which was as ugly as Moody's face. He twisted it in the lock and stepped inside the dimly lit office. Sneakoscopes and various dark-detectors littered the stone floor. He grunted and sat Longbottom down on a chair and got out a kettle, filling it with water and placing it over a jar with magical flames in it.

"Your parents were great Aurors, sonny." Barty said. Longbottom flinched. "They'd be proud of yeh."

Bartemius highly doubted this. Their son was undoubtedly the worst student Hogwarts had ever seen. Longbottom was borderline squib. It seemed like the right thing to say, though.

Longbottom looked down at his feet.

"I don't think so." He said in a small, pitiful voice. "I'm terrible at magic."

From what Barty knew of him this seemed about right.

"Professor Sprout said you're one of her star students."

Neville's head jerked up and a smile lit his face.

"Really?" He asked. Barty filled a teapot with tea-leaves.

"She said you're incredibly good at Herbology."

"I like it a lot. We're supposed to be learning about Bouncing Bulbs this year."

Barty grunted and poured the boiling water from the kettle into the tea-pot.

Longbottom's face fell and he sounded miserable again. "I'm not good at the other subjects though. I think I'm going to fail potions."

Barty poured a mugful of tea and placed it in front of Longbottom. He took a sip.

"Aren't you going to have any?" Longbottom asked. Idiot.

Barty held up his hip flask.

"I've got my own stuff." He replied. The boy looked at it apprehensively but didn't say anything.

"Professor Snape hates me." Neville returned to the previous conversation.

"Slimy git." Barty remarked coldly. Longbottom's mouth twitched upwards slightly.

Oh, Snape. That greasy-haired, stinking, yellow-bellied, filthy, traitorous turncoat. A piece of scum. A bug begging to be stepped on. Squashed flat. He turned away from his master, turned his back! The unloyal piece of filth. How Bartemius would just like to grab Snape and his scrawny little neck and-

"Never liked him." Barty growled. The boy in front looked slightly better, though unfortunately not any smarter. Barty turned his magical eye to Longbottom's pocket. Foolish, stupid idiot, he didn't even have his wand on him. Probably left it in his bag. Instead there were sweet wrappers and string. The pathetic Longbottom was practically begging to be cursed. "You best keep your wand in your pocket, boy." He said, and Neville jumped. Longbottom must have forgotten about the eye.

"The sweet-wrappers are from my mum." Longbottom explained sadly. His parents must be more dim-witted than Barty had previously assumed, despite their insane state. To equip their son with _sweet-wrappers…_

"Th-they don't e-even recognise me! I-I just wished that the Death-Eaters had n- never-never-" The Longbottom boy broke down into noisy tears and Barty patted him on the back, pushing back the urge to hex the worthless lump into oblivion. How would he react knowing he sat opposite the same Death-Eater who had crucioed his parents? Barty wondered. To know that Bartemius kidnapped them, watched them scream?

Once the Longbottom boy stopped sobbing, the rest of the next half-hour was spent listening to dreary and feeble tirades about how Death-Eaters destroyed his life and stories about Longbottom's parents. Barty nodded occasionally and let his mind drift over to the Triwizard Tournament. Finally, when the halfwit stopped yattering on, Barty brought himself to the present. He clapped a gnarled hand on the nitwit's shoulder.

"No matter what anyone else says, I reckon your parents would be proud of you." Barty stood up and walked over to his desk, where a pile of books were stacked. He sifted through them, searching. He pulled one out and held it for Longbottom to take. With luck, when the second task rolled around, Potter would ask people for help and Longbottom would be able to tell him about the Gillyweed. "Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. Think you'll like it."

Longbottom was gazing stupidly at the book, his mouth hanging open in surprise. "To borrow, mind you." Barty growled. "I want it back by the end of the year."

"Th-thank you." Longbottom stuttered.

"You'd better get back to your common room. Don't want yeh missing out on dinner." Barty grinned and the Longbottom boy stood up, nearly knocking over a chair in the progress.

"Thankyou, sir!" he said, and walked out of the office, clutching the book. All the plans were falling in to place now. Bartemius's master would rise again. Decent people were_ so_ easy to manipulate.


End file.
